2012 then is it?

 "Goat any Monster Munch?" "No, Boydy" "Right, f__ yeez then, um no' playin''"


The feel good factor that resided within the Scotland camp has well and truly left the building with Oily George's erratic tenure as the gaffer now has a lived in nameless dread.

To be fair to Surly Burley, Chris Iwelumo's Ronny Rosenthal-esque sitter was not his fault. Perhaps putting Kris Boyd on instead was the answer. We will never know. 

South Africa 2010 will take place without a Caledonian presence and maybe we all knew that after the Macedonia game.  

Boyd's petulance in his self-imposed hiatus does no-one any favours. As the blog made quite clear in the past, once you leave, you are never allowed back. The blue shirt you put on says Scotland and not George Burley. He should never be permitted to play for us again.

Will Boyd refuse to play under Walter Smith at Rangers, where he is also a habitual bench warmer? The answer to that query is the same response to "Will we break our twelve year absence from international tournaments and take our place among the football elite in the next World Cup?"

This is a shambles of Gordon Smith's own making and if Burley gets a picture of a Spitfire then it surely also is a case of "And Smith Must Go".

This will give you THE FEAR

It is not recommended to watch this whilst hungover.

Join the dots

The sloth-like nature of this blog wreaks havoc and a stronger burst of radio silence than planned has emerged. Let's move on.

As well a famine in trophies at St James' Park, logic has long been missing in the Toon and the replacement of Kevin Keegan (absence from football management: 3 years) with Joe Kinnear (absence from football management: 4 years) as Newcastle United custodian illustrates both trends are set to continue.

Only the Magpies could appoint a temporary manager that has a two-match touchline ban on a month long contract. Such is the adulation for the departed Mighty Mouse that perhaps guest spots in the vein of 'Have I Got News For You' are the only way forward for NUFC. November will be presided over by Lou Macari, December will be hosted by Trevor Francis and to sate all rabid Geordies, the corpse of Hughie Gallacher will be exhumed to pick the first eleven throughout January.


In the post-match fever of the Merseyside derby defeat, some Everton FC supporters have posted on Teletext and elsewhere, that David Moyes should be fired. These are fans that must be curiously pining for squeaky bum times of scraping into 17th place in the 90s under the sterling management of Walter Smith. They would do well to recall, that frequent European trips via top six finishes of the past few years were only granted under the guardianship of the Moyesyside and no one else.


€14,920 was the fine that FIFA meekly slid under the door of the Croatian FA in presumed punishment against the abhorrent abuse directed at Emile Heskey by Croatian supporters during the recent Croatia v England game.

The fine issued by the English Premier League to Manchester United for picking up seven bookings against Chelsea was £25,000.

It is perhaps indicative of the frequently bizarre behaviour from the corrupt, milksop weaklings led by Sep Blatter, that such a shoddy example was made of Croatia. Every time we are taken aback by FIFA's inefficiency in dealing with racism, we should perhaps, instead, be more amazed by why we continue to be surprised by their flagrant leniency.

UEFA, the Mike Winters to FIFA’s Bernie, continue to baffle in finding schemes to present themselves as being madder than a bottle of chips. The interminably long UEFA Cup has now been re-branded UEFA Europa League and will now, it seems, take longer than ‘Mahabharat’ to conclude.

This, of course, could only be the brainchild of Michel Platini. A man with such an increasingly Nixonian attitude to his presidency has led to him barking out paranoiac statements, such as those directed to Arsene Wenger, suggests someone whose breakfast of choice is Muesli drowned in lashings of Rumplemintz.


Toe curling, cringe making, whatever you want to call it, insert foot in mouth here and listen to this audio murder of an interview.  This blog hasn't felt so uncomfortable since Shteve McClaren's faux-Dutch faux pas.